


Are You Nasty?

by butterscotch_angel



Category: IT (2017)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-04
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-11-09 01:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17991938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterscotch_angel/pseuds/butterscotch_angel
Summary: The Losers get together in Stans' summer house (courtesy of his aunt) and get up to all kinds of antics. Mainly Richie. Honestly, it's always Richie's fault.





	Are You Nasty?

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to read the intro, it just describes the setting because this takes place somewhere I've been and I wanted the reader(s) to understand what I see/saw whilst writing. Feel free to skip it and dive right in. Enjoy!

intro*:  
It was mid-July, and the sun was blazing upon the dried grass outside. All the Losers were staying in Stans' Aunts' summer home-- and unannounced to any of the kids' parents, Stan's Aunt wasn't actually staying with them that week. Stans' immediate family most definitely weren't the most wealthy people you may meet; however, his Aunt had a damn nice summer house. It had three floors, the first floor was the main level- it had a beautiful kitchen with marble top counters and an island complete with modern wooden bar stools. The kitchen opened up into the first living room, it held two (expensive) brown leather couches and one loveseat, all of which were furnished with gorgeous throw pillows and some of the softest, thickest blankets on the planet. The first and second floor shared a very high ceiling, making the illusion that the house was even bigger than it was. There was a massive flat screen tv hung above the fake fireplace in front of the couches in the first living room. The first living room and the kitchen shared a large wall (which also extended up to the second floor) and was made entirely out of glass. The great window looked over many small mountains that decorated the horizon in a toothy blur. Just left of the kitchen was the front door, hidden in a nook which led out to a small patio. The patio was line with a just-above-waist-high railing to keep you from falling down onto the floor below no more than fifteen feet.  
Just above the first floor was the second floor, there was a wide staircase to get to it attached to the wall on the far left of the first living room. It's a small floor, with one bedroom, a mini bar (which Stans' Aunt, in fact, forgot to or empty), a pool table in the center, a small tv, and a chess set sat upon a clear table along with two clear chairs- right next to the glass wall. The second floor overlooked the first living room, and if you bent over the railing you could peek into the kitchen.  
Below the first floor is the basement, which wasn't really a basement at all, it was more like a beautifully furnished third floor. It consisted of two rooms, both of which could house up to four people-- although it would get a little cramped. It also had a second living room, smaller than the one upstairs, (but equally as comfortable) with one long couch that can seat about five or six people, a quite massive grey, fluffy bean-bag chair that someone could sleep on, and a large flat screen tv. To the left of the couch was a door that led to a patio that was located just below the one on the first floor. It had a hammock, two cushioned chairs, and one rope swinging chair that was tied to the bottom of the patio above.

Ch.1:  
Richie swaggered into the kitchen, where the smell of pancakes and bacon filled the room with a welcoming aroma.  
"Gooood mmooooorning homosexuals!" Richie teased, rolling out the 'o' and ‘m' like a flamboyant game show host.  
"Hey Richie," Stan said in a voice that was nearly monotone. Clearly, he thought it was too early for Richie’s classic antics.  
"morning trashmouth," Eddie greeted Richie in a way that could only be described as pleasant-- it was a rare day.  
"Whatcha cookin' good lookin'?" blurted Richie, sliding into the seat next to Eddie at the marble-top island. Stan rolled his eyes and reached for the spatula.  
"Pancakes with bacon- and no, they are not ready yet,"  
"Oh, well, in that case, I'm gonna dip," Richie got up and jumped over the back of the sofa, landing face first on the other side- falling asleep almost instantly. Next, Bill and Mike came strolling into the kitchen. The two boys took a deep breath in and peeked over the counter to see what was on the stove.  
"Something smells good, Stan," Mike said, then he looked around, puzzled, "where's Richie? I heard him come upstairs a little while ago," Eddie motioned to one of the couches, where the faint noise of a snoring boy was coming out from under a layer of blankets. Eddie was still sat at the island in the middle of the kitchen. His elbows were up on the marble top island, and he was leaning over them to watch the food sizzling on the stove.  
Bill slid right up to Stan, and if you watched closely enough, you could see Stan lean his hips into Bills soft frame.  
"Hey," Bill whispered, just quietly enough that no one else heard him except Stanley. It was a loving kind of whisper, a tone of voice so soft, so secure, that it should be considered a sacred sound. It was the kind of whisper you would use with the person you love most in the whole world.  
"Hey," Stan crooned in response, quietly sliding his hand into Bills'.  
Eddie watched all of this from his little seat at the island. He knew something was up with the two, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Eddie would consider himself to be a smart boy, however; sometimes he could be quite oblivious.

Eddie pushed himself off of the seat (which was slightly too high for his liking) and joined Mike and an unconscious Richie on the sofa to watch tv. Eddie tried to jump over the back of the couch just as Richie had, but he was just a pinch too short. This made for a comical spectacle that everyone could enjoy.  
Eventually, all of the Losers had made their way upstairs and had gathered around the island, all perched on a modern, classy medal stool.  
"Breakfast," Stan started, "is served."  
All of the kids gasped in excitement, Stan was certain that they’d be falling over themselves if they weren't sitting. He placed the plates on the table and quickly pulled his hands away as the kids ravaged through it like a pack of wolves. Stanley took his seat right next to Bill, who was waiting patiently for his turn to fill his plate. Stan and Beverly both cracked smiles when Richie and Eddie started fighting over a pancake that somehow ended up on the floor. It was pure adolescent chaos.  
Eventually, the kids calmed down enough for Bill and Stan to take dibs on the leftover food. However, this turned out to be the calm before the storm.  
In one swift motion, Richie took a slice of bacon and hurled it across the table at Eddie-- it hit him square in the face. This was a big mistake. Eddie slowly looked up at Richie, his eyebrows furrowed in a furious gaze. He then grabbed the nearest pancake and chucked it at Richie, who quickly dodged the flying breakfast disk. Beverly sat in awe of the situation, a broad smile growing on her face as she watched food fly across the table. Before you knew it the kids were in a full-fledged food fight, breakfast items were being thrown from all angles— nowhere was safe. Stan grabbed a pan just in time to block a sausage that was thrown at him, and Bill under the table in a failed attempt to save himself. Bev used the spatula as a bat and sent half a pancake flying at Richie, who caught it with his face. Ben, on the other hand, was still trying to peacefully eat his breakfast and was being pelted with a rain of pancake bits and strings of maple syrup. Richie was having the time of his life, it may have been the layers of syrup on his face or that he was with the people he loved the most, but either way, the boy was beaming. Eddie however, was having a tough time with all of the foods being thrown at him— mostly by Richie. What did him in though, was when Richie peeled a pancake off the marble-top table and sent it straight for Eddie when he wasn’t looking. This caught the poor boy off guard and off balance, causing him to fall right off his stool and onto the hardwood floor with a crash.  
“Ow!” Eddie exclaimed, grabbing his elbow and writhing around on the floor. This brought the fight to a screeching halt, and all of the Losers’ eyes were on Eddie.  
“Shit, Eds’ are you good?” Richie said, knowing if he didn’t he’d never hear the end of it. Eddie shot Richie a glare only Eddie had enough rage to give.  
“No, my elbow hurts a lot and my pride does too because you knocked me down with a mother fucking pancake!”  
“Well, that pancake didn’t fuck your mother but I definitely did.” Richie grinned, looking at the others, who didn’t find Richie as funny as he found himself.  
“I hate you,” Eddie said, taking Bills’ extended hand and getting off the floor. He brushed himself off and put his plate in the sink.  
“I hate you,” He repeated, stomping downstairs, his red fanny pack bouncing on his hip.  
The rest of the Losers turned their gaze to Richie, their eyes yelling for him to go after Eddie. Richie sighed and went after the angry boy.

“Eds?” Richie asked, until his eyes fell on a brown blanket with an Eddie shaped figure curled up underneath it. He sat down on the couch just a few inches away from Eddie.  
“Eds-” Richie started,  
“I told you to stop calling me that,” The boy mumbled from under the blanket.  
“Eds I’m sorry, okay? All you did was fall off a stool, it’s not a big deal.” Eddie squirmed slightly under the blanket, moving it so his eyes were uncovered. He looked at Richie and his gaze softened.  
“Yeah… I know. I know it’s not. It shouldn’t be. Sorry. I- I shouldn’t have flipped out, my elbow does kind of hurt still though.” Eddie stammered, still watching Richie.  
“It’s okay, it’s my fault too don’t worry. Sorry.. even though it was a little funny.” Richie smiled, not grinned or smirked, he smiled. He smiled because Eddie was right there next to him. And that’s all he could ever ask for.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feel free to leave kudos and please comment with constructive criticism!! :)


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